World on Fire
by possumgurl
Summary: Takes place directly after ‘Disconnect’ ends. It’s more than Alex can handle. And, it seems, more than Michael can handle too. MichaelMahone SLASH


A/N: Title from 'World on Fire' by Sarah McLachlan.

"Michael?"

Alex's lips twitch as he cocks the gun in the direction of the phone. There's a snap like a whip and the phone is in pieces, scattered around over jagged pebbles of broken glass dancing like gems in the flames. Sara's voice rings in Michael's ears, followed by the crack of the gunshot. Michael sighs and presses his eyes shut, letting the disappointment and frustration wash over him, letting it take its hold momentarily before trying his best to push it away. Alex is looking at him now. Has the gun cocked at him. It's as if Lincoln is invisible.

"Michael." His name falls from a different pair of lips now. The voice is low, smooth and rough at the same time, alluring. Michael squeezes his eyes shut once again, trying this time to block out irrationality. Alluring?

Alex's face is illuminated by the flames. He moves away from his wrecked car. Closer to Michael. Closer to Lincoln as well, though it doesn't look as though he notices, nor does he care. His piercingly blue eyes are fixed on Michael and Michael alone. And Michael can't look away.

"Get up." Alex tips the wrist holding the gun up towards the smoky sky, moving forward until he stands directly before Michael.

"Don't do this Alex." Michael's voice is full of hurt. Desperation. Weariness. Hope.

"Up Michael." Michael squeezes his eyes shut once again. Briefly. A fleeting movement. Alex's hand trembles. Briefly. A fleeting movement. Michael gets to his feet.

"Good. That's very good Michael." Alex is close. He steps closer. Michael stiffens.

"Are you going to kill me Alex?" Michael's expression is unreadable. Alex looks to the eyes. It's all in the eyes. To anyone else they too would be indecipherable, but Alex knows what to look for. There is no fear. Not for himself. There is fear for Lincoln. There is acceptance. There is courage and brilliance and intensity and everything about Michael that sends Alex's mind reeling. And then there's the one thing that stuns him, but knowing Michael he really shouldn't be surprised. There is doubt. Doubt in Alex's will. Michael knows that Alex won't take that step. He knows that he won't die by Alex's hand. Alex clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handgun, running his palm over his face. He can feel tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He finds he doesn't care. He gives a short laugh. The gun moves in his hand. Flips around. So that Alex's fingers are curled around the barrel and the grip faces Michael. As does the trigger.

"Take it. Do it." The fire crackles. Michael is silent. Alex takes a short breath and shakes the gun in Michael's face furiously. "DO IT!"

"I'm not going to kill you Alex. You know that." Michael's eyes are full of wonder. Calm. Lincoln watches the exchange with wide eyes.

"I need-" Alex's desperation is evident in his voice. The tears continue to prickle and push. Michael goes blurry and wobbly and streaked with orange from the flames.

"Alex, I won't-"

_"I NEED YOU TO DO IT MICHAEL!"_

The wobbly Michael streaks forward and Alex can't feel the gun in his hand anymore. He hears something clatter to the glass-strewn ground. He feels someone supporting him. Arms wrapping around him. Lips pressed onto his own. He never imagined it would be like this. He doesn't know what he imagined anymore. The blurry Michael streaks forward again and again with the insides of Alex's eyelids as a screen. Michael's lips are on his and his mind is dazed. He doesn't know what to think. He kisses back hungrily, groaning as he feels Michael's tongue slipping against his own. Alex shivers, his hands sliding through Michael's silky hair, teeth chafing across his lower lip. Feels Michael's own desperation in his insistence and quiet moans.

And suddenly Michael remembers where he is and what he's doing, and he pulls away with a groan. Alex feels the loss immediately. Of warmth. Love. Being needed. The cold night air trails across his kiss-swollen lips and he sighs, running his hand through his hair and clutching at Michael, who is still holding him, but has his eyes shut in horror and is so tense he looks as though he'd snap if someone whispered.

"Alex…"

"It's alright Michael."

Alex lets his gaze trail over to Lincoln, who is still kneeling in the glass just in front of the burning car. He is frozen, and Alex can see the beginnings of revulsion and horror and amazement starting to take over. He cannot tell what order they're in. He realizes he doesn't care. He looks back to Michael. Raises his hand to brush over his right cheek. Michael sighs and bites his lip. His face is streaked with tears. He pulls Alex closer and Alex takes him into his arms. Alex's eyes close against the flames and Lincoln and the broken glass on the ground. He hears Michael's dry sobs in his left ear and the popping flames in his right. He feels Michael's body against his and tries to pull him closer, but he's already as close as possible. He can hear Lincoln shifting in the glass somewhere in front of him, transferring his weight from one knee to the other. He doesn't look up.

"Michael." It's a whisper.

"Alex."

"I know you knew I wouldn't do it."

Nobody speaks. The fire sparks and dances. Michael brushes his lips over Alex's ear. His words flow out in a quiet, warming rush of air that dances over Alex's ear like the fire he knows is dancing somewhere in front of him.

"I know."

And then everything is silent. Alex holds Michael and Michael holds Alex. Lincoln doesn't move. Alex doesn't know why, but Lincoln doesn't move. The fire burns on, shining through the many chips of glass scattered across the road, making them glow red and orange and a thousand different shades in between.


End file.
